


"Alt-Right" My Ass

by CelticPixie



Series: Modern High School AU [1]
Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Alternate Universe- Modern High School, Intense and Liberal Swearing, Joe cries, Liebgott hates Nazis with a burning passion, M/M, and I cried when I wrote this, brief graphic mention of Charlottesville riots, fuck nazis, rightfully, so much swearing, transcription of an NPR broadcast used
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-15
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-12-15 13:41:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11807112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelticPixie/pseuds/CelticPixie
Summary: I got angry about the Charlottesville bullshit all over the news and it reminded me of the scene with Liebgott interrogating the German Commandant. This happened and I can't say I'm not proud of how it turned out.





	"Alt-Right" My Ass

Dick was working on an English paper when he got the phone call. Grant didn’t call people often, so he knew it was going to be important when he saw the caller ID, and important it was.

“Are you watching the news?” were the first words out of Grant when he first picked up.

“No? Why?” he responded, skipping his usual ‘Hey, Chuck’ because he seemed flustered. Grant didn’t get flustered.

“The world is going to shit and you need to get over to Joe’s house before he hurts himself. I’m outside, but he won’t answer the door and his family is out for the weekend.” Just as he finished speaking, there was a muffled but loud crashing sound followed by Chuck swearing and the sound of him pounding on something only to receive a far away “ _ Fuck off! _ ” 

“I’ll be right there,” Dick said, hanging up the phone quickly. He slings on his varsity jacket and grabs his car keys, but before he runs out he opens his computer and searches MSNBC. The first link, and the second and the third and the fourth and the fifth, are about Charlottesville and the riots. He scrolls halfway through the first one and that’s enough to make his blood boil. Grinding his teeth, he marches out of the house, ignoring his dad as he calls after him and guns his pickup down the street. Fuck traffic laws, Joe’s house was eight minutes away and based on Chuck’s call he had roughly six before things went off a cliff, if they weren’t already at that point. 

He pulled up to the apartment complex in five minutes. Sprinting up the two flights of stairs took less than ten seconds, and he was at Joe’s door in another ten. Chuck was still there, his own door wide open across the hall and he stood there and pounded incessantly on Lieb’s family apartment. 

“Hey, Chuck. Came as fast as I could,” Dick huffed, skidding to a stop beside his friend. Chuck looked up and visibly relaxed.

“Oh thank god,” he gushed, but tesned up again at the sound of loud German swearing and something shattering. “Please.” He sounded helpless, and Dick nodded, gesturing Chuck back to his apartment. The shorter teen hesitated but left, closing his door behind himself.

Dick squared himself and knocked at the door.

“Joe?”

“I said  _ fuck off, Chuck! _ ” Joe barked, and something slammed into the other side of the door, making Dick flinch backwards.

“It’s Dick.” He gets nothing back from Joe, and in the silence he starts to discern the white noise in the background. 

_ “ - called Unite the Right. White marchers carried swastika flags and chanted racist slogans. Counter-protesters gathered to stage their own demonstration. At one point, a driver plowed into a group of the counter-protesters, killing one woman and injuring 19 others-” _

After a moment, Dick had heard enough and tried the door handle only to find it locked, so he pulled out his keys. He’d never had to use his emergency key to Lieb’s house before, but this definitely constituted as an emergency.

When he got the door open, he had to duck out of the way of a flying sneaker, which luckily slammed into the wall instead of his head. He cautiously looked in to see Joe, slumped on his couch and glaring at his television as the woman onscreen continued to talk, his vicious snarl contradicted by the tear tracks down his cheeks. 

The room was trashed. A couch was missing pillows, the coffee table was flipped a good ten feet from when Dick remembered it belonging, a vase was smashed and spilling water and flowers across the floor, and at least a cup and two plates littered the ground. Among the dents in the walls from projectiles, one hole in the plaster was distinctly fist sized. Joe had been at this a while. 

Without a word, Dick walked over and grabbed the remote from beside his boyfriend and shut off the television, ending the gory footage of a Mustang and a crowd and a course of events Dick never wanted to think about ever again. Joe went to object, but snapped his mouth shut at the look he got from the taller redhead. Dick sat down on the couch, a few inches from Joe, and made sure there wasn’t anything directly nearby that he could be hit with before speaking.

“When do your folks get back.” There was no inflection, he kept his tone flat. Joe didn’t need to hear him getting worked up right now, he needed Dick to be solid, so that’s what he would be. 

“Tomorrow. Noon maybe,” Joe shrugged, wiping at his cheeks furiously.

“Alright.” And with that, Dick grabbed Joe by the shoulders and pulled him to his chest. They had time to clean up later, right now his boyfriend was crumbling and he couldn’t have that. Joe pulled away from Dick a little, but he was resolute and eventually the smaller boy gave in and let himself be held. They stayed like that for a while, it could have been ten minutes or it could have been an hour, but eventually Joe started to shake and Dick hugged him tightly. 

“I just-” Joe tried, but his voice caught in his throat as he cried and Dick shushed him, rubbing his back slowly and pressing his face into Joe’s hair. 

“I know. Just breathe,” Dick said quietly, but apparently that was the wrong thing to say.

“No,” Joe huffed, pushing Dick away and standing up, trying to wipe away the tears on his face only for them to be quickly replaced, “you don’t know.” He pointed violently at the now-black television. “Those  _ fuckers _ think it’s okay and even  _ fucking patriotic _ to wave those  _ fucking flags around like they have every fucking right-” _ His voice broke again and he stuttered, breathing heavily. “They think they have the fucking right to flaunt that,” he started again, “Sieg Heil-ing that  _ fucking moron _ in office and going around  _ proud of being a racist motherfucker-” _ He was hyperventilating at this point, and crying more than before. “They’re fucking  _ proud _ of this bullshit and think they can march- that they can march around and  _ fucking, oh fuck, kill people- and I mean, fuck, after all this bullshit, I mean, these Nazi fuckers are parading around! AFTER WHAT THEY DID TO MY FUCKING PEOPLE!!! _ ”

Joe nearly collapsed and Dick was on his feet in an instant, catching Joe’s skinny frame and pulling him close again, letting him sob against his chest, everything just too much at once. He cried and he cried and Dick held him tight, not saying a word. Joe didn’t need words, he never needed words, and maybe that was why they worked so well together. Joe needed someone to hold him close and keep him from falling apart when the world started tearing at the seams, and he would never vocalize that so he needed someone who would recognize that. Dick was good at that, and he was always willing to be Joe’s rock. He knew Joe loved and needed him more than he would ever be able to say.


End file.
